


Principles of Chaos

by coveryourheads (rsk110)



Series: Peter Parker: Always and Forever Every Universe's Bitch [1]
Category: Deadpool (Movieverse), Fantastic Four (Movies 2005-2007), The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Dimension Travel, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-22 04:31:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11959779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rsk110/pseuds/coveryourheads
Summary: Wade rejects Peter. Peter does science. Peter may have teleported to an alternate universe.[Summary and tags will be updated as the story gets updated, too. So that there's no spoilers. Title may change as well. Maybe.]





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! It's my very first time writing and posting a Spideypool fic! I'm excited and nervous as well.
> 
> I hope you will like this fic.
> 
> :D
> 
> [And... This fic is written with Andrew Garfield Spidey in mind or any of the comic book version.  
> BIG NOPE on slashing Spiderbaby Holland with Deadpool.]

Prologue

 _Do you have a plan?_    
_No. Not a comprehensive plan._    
_I think you do._    
_A funeral._

  

“No, Peter.”

It isn’t the rejection that hurts, not exactly.  It’s Wade using his name.  Not  _Baby Boy_.  Not  _Spidey_.  Not any of those endearments Deadpool frequently uses.  That stings a lot more than Peter wants it to.  Even though he’s supposed to be invincible, pain and damages on his body repairing itself just as quickly as he feels them, this is a new kind of hurt.  In here.  Deep inside here.

“But—,“ he starts then stops.  He bites down on his lip under his mask.

“I can’t, Peter.  You know I can’t.  And…” Wade pauses.  He smiles through his mask, Peter can see.  “What would you want to do with a guy like me, anyways.  You’re just infatuated by  _this_.”

Peter can’t laugh like he usually would when Wade points to his biceps, to his broad pecs, and to his groin.  It used to make him giggle and blush, but now is not the moment.  He’s getting rejected and his heartbroken, dammit.

Peter growls out, “I gotta go.”

“Peter…”  Wade calls after him as Peter shoots a web out to the building across the street.  Peter doesn’t answer, jumping and swinging wildly, away from Deadpool.  Shoot, swing, shoot, jump…  “Peter!”

 _Dumbass_ , Peter scolds himself.  One more swing around a tall building has him landing on the rickety fire escape of his apartment, hidden in a dark alley, disused.  Spiderman balances himself on the rusting iron bar, slowly prying open the window.  He lets himself in, one quivering limb at a time, feeling the fatigue of the evening.  He saunters over and disables the alarms and the various safety protocols he’s fitted his place with.  After checking the outside, he closes the window and blinds.

The new suit is easy to pull on but after a day of activities, the sweat clings to the inside and is so difficult to peel off.  He thinks about the variations of the fabric.  The outside of his new suit works well.  It’s stretchy like spandex but can withstand just about anything that he often gets attacked with.  But it’s irritating on the skin after a long time, so Peter has the suit lined with a softer version of Kevlar he’s been experimenting around with.  This one had been the best but has a sticky reaction to the salt in sweat.  He’ll keep working on it but for now he wants to shower.

The water is scalding hot and he loves it.

He’d been prepared but he’d never thought that Wade would reject him like that.

Peter switches the hot water to cold.

After all, Wade had been the one to initiate conversations, the ice cream cones after fighting mutual enemies, the flirting, the ass-grabbing, not to mention the endless comments about his ass under the skin-tight uniform, and…

Peter raises his face to the cold pouring water.

He’d trusted Wade with his identity.  Wade still had not broken that trust.  And little by little, Peter had thought he…

A sob gets caught in his throat.  Peter curls his arms around his knees and lets it out.

_‘Wade, I love you.’_

   

\---  

   

“Oww!”  Peter snatches his fingers away from the shock.  The micro-connector in the teleportation device makes a high-pitched noise, emanating tiny electrical shocks, then dies.  A tiny smoke ghost wisps up into the air.  Peter groans out, “Fuck.”

This particular machine is Wade’s.  He’d asked Peter to fix it for him.  It had looked easy enough but after a few hours of tinkering with it, Peter had come to the conclusion that it’s too complicated, even for him. And now he’s killed it.  The micro-connector he can replace with one of his own, even though it’s a bit cruder than this future device, but it’ll do.  Peter checks the wattage and carefully solders the connector, then he tests the device.  It makes the clicking noise still, but it comes back to life.

Peter decides he should let Wade know that he’s done his best.  He’s not sure if it works or not but at least, this will be an excuse to let Wade know that he’s not mad at him.  He still wants to remain friends, even though it’ll be awkward for a while.  He reaches for his phone he’d thrown on his unshapely pillow.  He gawks at the phone after swiping the screen open.

 **Wade** : I just think we’re not meant to be together. Not in this world.

“Wow…  Just…  Wow, Wade…”

Peter is shaking so much, so angry that he’s afraid he’ll punch his way right through the wall.  And what would his neighbor think of that?  He pulls on a Spiderman suit and jumps out of the apartment.  He dangles around from a web, listening for the bad guys, but the night is quiet.  He spots a group of drunken college guys but they’re only trying to hail a taxicab.  He climbs and perches on a high ledge of a skyscraper, dark against the cloudy night sky, and pulls his mask off.  The wind is cool and humid, but it feels good against his exposed skin.

“In what world are we meant to be together then..?”

Peter blinks rapidly, fighting the errant tears.  Maybe he should call Wade.  Argue.  Tell him that they should at least try.

“I know how you feel.  I can feel it.  Why can’t you just let it…”

He tucks his phone back into the small pocket.  In there is Wade’s broken teleporter.  He should return it or at least fix it right.  That’s when Peter realizes he’s not too far from the Baxter Building.  The lights are on, meaning Reed’s up and working.  Reed is good about letting Peter use the lab sometimes.  If he can’t, he can just hang out with Johnny if he’s there, or cuddle up with Susie.  She keeps lots of chocolates in the cupboards.  Peter takes a nosedive, loving the few elongated seconds of the fall, before twisting up, shooting a web and swinging up to do it again until he gets to the Baxter Building.  He lands on the small balcony on the top level, rapping against the thick glass.

Peter is a bit surprised that it’s Johnny who lets him in, giving him a big hug.

“Dude, what’s with your face?” Johnny says, even though Peter’s still wearing his mask.

“Ugh.  Just a bit jittery.  Is Reed around?”

“Nope.  Reed and Susie took the kids to Nevada for a vacation before school starts.  And Ben’s not around.  Did you need something from Reed?”

“Nah.” Peter shakes his head, then whips off his mask.  “I was just bored.  Wanted to see what he’s working on or something.”

“Oh,” Johnny points to Reed’s messy workstation.  “Some Earth interdimensional time warp thing or I don’t know.  Who really listens to him anyway.  Beer?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Peter looks over Reed’s notes on the old blackboard he likes to scribble ideas and formulas on as Johnny disappears into the kitchen.  Peter understands the complicated formulas, except the math seems a bit off.  He picks up a piece of chalk and re-writes the math at the bottom, quickly solving it.  Reed is one of the smartest persons on the planet but he sometimes misses the little things because he has so many thoughts at once.  Peter is able to focus better, one thing at a time.  He wonders if that’s a Spidey thing or a Peter Parker thing.  He drifts over to the gadgets and machines on the worktable.  Curiosity makes him pick up a small device, size and shape similar to Wade’s teleporter.

“Hey, you hungry?” Johnny’s voice makes Peter jump.  Johnny laughs at him.  He notices Peter’s scrawl on the chalkboard and sighs deeply.  “Come on, nerd.  Let’s watch Star Trek until the sun rises and get drunk.”

Peter’s into that.  They drink Reed's craft beers and eat Susie’s chocolate truffles until they feel like puking and fight over what to watch.  Johnny ends up playing The Two Towers, because Peter will never say no to Lord of the Rings and Johnny loves to laugh at the talking trees.  Peter sneaks away just before the sun rises, after tucking a blanket around Johnny.  Even Midtown Manhattan is quiet, so early in the morning, the sky turning light gray, waiting for the sun to rise above the horizon.  He makes it to his apartment then flops onto his bed.

Hours later, Peter wakes up to something digging into his side.  Sleepy hands flail around to pull out his phone, Wade’s teleporter and Reed’s device he's pocketed when Johnny surprised him.  He dumps everything onto the floor and snoozes again.  

   

\---  

   

Even though he feels guilty, he doesn’t return Reed’s watch thing.  Reed hasn’t called him about it.  He probably hasn’t noticed.  Johnny had checked up on him though, groaning as Susie yells at him in the background about the state of the living room and for him to invite Peter to dinner.  Johnny says he’s got some work to do in California so he’ll be leaving but they should hang out more.  They never hang out as much anymore, ever since Deadpool started becoming a permanent fixture in New York.  Peter hadn’t meant to ignore or avoid Johnny like that.  Johnny Storm has been such a great friend to him, his  _best_  friend, for a long time, with the rest of the Fantastic Four treating him like the fifth member.  It’s just that he’d liked how he was with Wade.

With Johnny, it’s endless fun.  Whether it’s fighting crime or hanging out on the couch, it’s always fun.  But he doesn’t get to open up about the other stuff.  His fears or how much he hates anchovies or the difference between Spiderman and Peter Parker.  Most people who know his identity treat him like Spiderman.  Expect wit and banter and lots of fun times.  A few people still treat him more as Peter.  Talk science and photography and the boring life of a twenty-three-year-old.  Peter is okay with that.  But with Wade…  

Wade sees him as  _Peter_ , who’s sometimes a nerdy average guy who is sometimes Spiderman, but always  _one_   _entity_ , with or without the costume.  It’s one of the reasons he’d opened up so much to Wade, even revealing himself from under the mask.

Peter promises Johnny he’ll come by when he returns.  Reed is now screaming at Johnny about Peter.  Peter freezes for a second then hears Reed demanding Peter come help his project, since he corrected the math.  Peter sighs, fiddling around with Reed’s device.  He quickly says good-bye to Johnny and hangs up.  If anything, he’ll help Reed but he wants to finish Wade’s teleporter first.

Peter repeats to himself that it isn’t theft, that he’s just borrowing, with every intention of returning it after studying the mechanics.  He stabs a button by accident with the end of the thin screwdriver.  It powers up.  Peter starts to panic.  And the teleporter powers up, too, for unknown reasons.  Both devices start to flash and emit rays of blinding lights.  Peter braces himself for some kind of explosion.  All too sudden, the lights are gone, leaving Peter stunned.  After the neon-colored flashing lines disappear from his vision, Peter looks around the room for any damages.  There seems to be none, not even the two devices on his small desk.  He tucks them away safely, shaking his head.

Except, his spider-senses tingle.  The room looks bigger and did his bed get bigger too?  The sheets look clean and soft, bed made perfectly.  It must be his vision playing tricks.  Peter opens the door to go out to his little kitchen nook for some water.  Except he’s frozen to the spot.

Did he just teleport to a different apartment?

   

   

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quotes at the very beginning are from film 'Empire Records'.
> 
> I would love what you guys think of this so far, although there isn't too much right now. Or just, anything in general.
> 
> Also, I'm thinking about - frequent updates with short chapters or longer more comprehensive chapters with longer times between updates. Thanks!
> 
> [08/31/2017]


	2. Part 1: Earth-16896 - Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh! Thank you everyone for your interest in this fic! It feels like an awesome welcome to this fandom. :)
> 
> -Teeny-tiny mention of Bullying in this chapter.
> 
> And other chapter warnings at the end notes, just in case you don't want to be spoiled.

 

_Do you think this story is already written? Or do you think a bold and courageous act can change the course of history?_

  

 

Peter grips the door handle tight, studying the view, jaw dropping, stupefied.  Okay.  This enormous space _cannot_ be his apartment.  The living room is an actual _living_ room, spacious with furniture, not the tight corner with an old sofa that he’d used more as a closet than to sit in it.  Now there’s a full set of luxurious leather couches, a large coffee table with books on them, a giant flat-screen television on the wall by the fireplace (is that real??) and other furniture stuff.  It looks like a page out of a trendy catalog.  The kitchen is huge, with sleek appliances and marble surfaces.  The carpet is thick and cream-colored, with wood panel trimmings.  There is a large balcony with sliding doors (which Peter is going to enjoy when he’s trying to sneak in and out, but this has got to be a dream), with a very grand view of Uptown Manhattan and Central Park.

Peter is startled by the sound, from where he assumes is the front door.  His brain is shouting at him to get the teleporter, to make it work again and get the hell out of this apartment because the owner is coming in, and he's going to get arrested for trespassing and get thrown in jail.  But his legs don't move and he's frozen to the spot by the bedroom door.  The front door opens, and Peter is deciding if he should knock the guy out or just start apologizing and explain science.  A tall man enters, in a navy-blue suit, announcing, “Peter, honey? I’m home.”

 _Peter, honey_?

Peter’s fingers ache around the door handle.  He’s afraid he’ll break the knob off.

“I’m so sorry I’m late. I missed the train and you know how it gets at this time of the day.”  The man explains with an apologetic smile.

“Uh…”

“You look mad. Please don’t be mad.” The man tosses his briefcase on the couch, coming straight towards Peter. His dark blonde hair is disheveled.  He has a nice smile.  His hazel eyes stare down into Peter’s, as his large hands cradle Peter’s face gently.  “I’m really, really sorry, baby.”

Peter thinks he recognizes the voice.  _Baby boy_ …  “Wade…?”

“Yes, Peter?”

Peter’s mouth quirks into half a smile.  Deadpool has never taken his mask off, but they’d been in enough fights where parts of their uniforms were torn or slashed away for Peter to have seen his mottled skin.  Peter had known Wade’s insecurity about his disfigured skin but…

Wade looks alright.  Better than alright.  His skin looks fine.  Great, actually.  And he’s… So… much more handsome than Peter had imagined and…

“I’m so sorry, baby.  Let’s get changed and go, okay?”

“Oh…  Okay.”

Wade lays a kiss on the bridge of his nose before heading to the bathroom.

Peter slaps his face hard.  (Oww!)  He needs to wake up.  (Wake up, dammit!)

The scenery in his field of vision does not change.  However, Peter sees himself in the large mirror in the corner.  He looks the same as the last time he’d looked into a full-length mirror.  He has his glasses and plain cotton tee and pants combo he likes to wear around at home, no socks.  His hair is neater, combed out and soft, and…  A gleam on his hand catches his attention.  He brings his left hand up to his face, staring hard at the gold ring around his finger.

 _Oh my god_ …

“Wade?!”

“Yes?”

“Where’s my suit?!”

Wade pokes his head out of the bathroom, toothbrush still in his mouth.

“In the closet, sweetheart.  Next to mine, remember?”

Peter gapes at Wade who’s left the door ajar.  He’s stripped out of his work clothes, body still moist from his quick shower.  On his left ring finger is a similar band.  Peter squeaks and throws himself in to the assumed closet in search of his suit.  And... Well... The closet is _enormous_.  Peter rolls his eyes.  It’s bigger than his bedroom and it’s filled with more clothes than he’s ever thought a person would need.  Peter searches for the familiar red and blue, digging around for the web-shooters.

“Peter, babe, what are you doing?  The suits are right here.”

Wade is by the closet door, pointing at two black tuxedos still in their clear drycleaner bags.

“I’m looking for… My web-shooters and… my suit.”

“What?”

“My suit.  My Spiderman suit!”

“Oh god, Peter.” Wade pulls him into a hug.  “You’ve been reading too many comic books again. What are you talking about, silly?”

“My…  Spiderman suit… and you’re…”

“Honey, you can tell me about the new comic book dreams later but we’ve got to go. Let’s get dressed.” Wade’s voice is full of amusement and his eyes are crinkled at the edges.

“Where are we… _Ow_!!”

“Peter?”

Peter hugs his head.  It hurts, like he’s been struck hard, or shaken roughly for twenty minutes.  He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to make everything stop spinning.

“Peter?”

Peter snaps his eyes open.  Images flash in his mind.

 _Wade smiles at him from behind a library book he’s pretending to read._  
_Wade holds his hand as they walk along a cold winter ocean side._  
_Wade tells him he loves Peter._  
_Wade gets on his knee, holding a simple gold ring, asking Peter to marry him._  
_Wade is standing at the altar, and Peter’s vision starts to blur as tears start to fill his eyes._  
_Wade promises him forever, as he kisses him…_

Peter’s hands start to shake as he pulls his arms from his head.  What the hell are all of that?

“Peter?  Baby, what is wrong?”

His heart aches so much.  The Wade in front of him is…  Is he not…  He’s _not_ Deadpool.  He’s…

“Oh my god, you’re burning up!”

Wade lifts Peter up easily, carrying him to their shared bed.  Peter tries to breathe through all the memories flooding into him, like a mass download of digital data at lightning fast speed.  He tries to comprehend all of it but it’s so confusing.  Peter can’t understand if these are his memories or this other Peter’s…  Peter wants to throw up.  He claws through his scalp.

He's Peter Parker.  This place, he's dreaming it.  But Wade's hand is so warm and tantalizingly soft over his forehead.  The way he looks at Peter makes his heart beat fast.  If this is not a dream, then he's teleported to this other place and Wade is not _Wade_ and he is not Peter.  Peter's head spins, vision blurring and breathing is hard.

“I’m okay, Wade. I just… I need some aspirin and water, please.”

“Okay. Okay, hold on.”

Wade goes to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water.  Peter places his hand on the wall, to see if his hand will stick.  He tests his palm again and again, trying to control his swirling emotions.  His hand is just a hand.  It doesn't stick to the wall.  Wade comes back into the room.  Peter's not heard his steps or felt it.  Wade scrambles in to the bathroom to grab pills from the cabinet.

Peter tries to explain when Wade returns, “I was playing with some… A new device.  From… Reed…”

“Oh? Has Johnny come by?”

“Uh. Yeah. Yes.”  Peter sighs a little, relief sinking in from having to not explain everything, if Wade were to ask who Reed was.

“I didn’t know he was back in New York.  Oh, he must have come back for the party tonight.  But still, honey, you shouldn’t have been messing around with stuff from Reed.  I know you miss the lab work and all but…  It’s no good for you right now.”

Peter puts his hand out instead for the water and aspirin.  He gets a handful of pills instead.

“What’s all this?”

“You didn’t take your midday pills.  I… I know I should be taking better care of you…  But, we promised, Peter.  You’ll take care of yourself while I go back to work and not stay home with you all the time.  You promised me.”

“I… I did… I’m sorry.  I was… I was sort of busy with…”

“I know.  You were happy to see Johnny.  I get it.” Wade smiles at him with so much warmth that Peter feels his eyes start to water.  Wade caresses his cheek so lovingly, and he does shed a tear at the gentle gesture.  “Take your pills and let’s get dressed.  I'll call for the car.  Or we’ll be very late and you’ll miss your speech.”

Wade gets up from the bed to start getting dressed into his tuxedo.  Peter takes his time, swallowing a pill after pill.  He searches through the memories, still overflowing out of sequence, and… 

 _He picks_ _up their tuxes from the drycleaners while Wade is at the grocer, a few stores down._  
Tuxedos are for the dinner party tonight, for Parker Industries…   
For Peter’s big night…   
His parents will be there…   
Mom and…

“Dad?”

“Hmm?” Wade asks from the closet.  “Your dad? No, he didn’t call me today.”

Peter gets up, quickly finishing the water.  He goes and pulls out the tux, shedding out of his tee and pants and starts dressing himself.  He has some trouble with the bowtie but Wade turns him around to help.  Wade closes the sleeves with cufflinks and checks each detail of their evening clothes.  Wade’s palm presses over his forehead.

“No fever.  Maybe it was a hot flash.  I’ll call Dr. Banner tomorrow and ask about that.”

“Okay.”

They get on the elevator and travel to the ground floor without stopping.  There’s a car waiting at the entrance.  Peter slides in first.  The car is as fancy as his apartment.  Wade closes the door after he gets in, talking amicably to the driver.  Peter risks leaning to Wade’s space, laying his head against his shoulder.  For a second, he worries if Wade will push him away but all he does is comb his fingers into Peter’s hair.  Peter sighs, content, staring down at his hand, at the gold band around his finger.

Memories keep playing in his head, and Peter is having a hard time placing them.  What is going on?  If he isn’t Spiderman and if Wade isn’t Deadpool, are they just a regular couple, living a good, married life?  Or… Maybe… Johnny Storm and Reed Richards are still around.  Are they still the Fantastic Four, with Susie and Ben?  Where would Captain America be?  Tony Stark?

“So, um, Wade?”

Wade pauses, excusing himself from the conversation with the driver as he turns his attention on Peter.  “Yes?”

“I was just… wondering about… Tony Stark?”

“I think he’s coming. I don't know about the entire guest list though. But I’m sure he’ll be there. Or at least his assistant.”

So, Tony Stark is also in this world but is he still Iron Man?

“What about… Steve…?”

“Yes.  Steve and James will be there.  And everyone else you know.  Don’t be so nervous.  You’ll have plenty of people to talk to.  Johnny.  Clint.”

“Okay…”  It makes Peter happy yet uneasy because he’s still not sure and they might all figure out that he’s…  He’s Peter Parker!  The REAL Peter Parker.

The car waits behind others on the street, waiting to drop the passengers off.  Wade gives Peter exactly three kisses in his hair, ear shell and the soft skin where his jaw meets neck.  The door opens and Peter is shocked by the flashing camera lights and the noise.  He doesn’t catch any of the questions people shout at him.  Wade leads him forward, a hand on the small of his back, waving and letting Peter lean on him.  They make it inside the grand building with banners shouting Parker Industries.  Other banners and badges have big names of companies that have also sponsored the night’s event.  Stark International is the most recognizable (and the banners are larger than the other names).  Peter studies them all but does not find Oscorp.  Does…  Is Harry…?

Wade shakes a lot of hands.  Peter says hello to people he thinks he recognizes but really doesn’t.  He looks around, trying to find Mom and Dad.  Would they look different?  Would they notice that Peter is… Different?

“Peter!  Wade!”

The voice is so familiar and comforting.  Peter’s eyes get wet as he makes a beeline to Mom, embracing her tightly.

“Hi, honey!  Oomph...  I missed you too, sweetheart.”

Peter pulls back to look at his mother’s face.  She’s a bit older than he remembers, with strands of gray in her hair.  But she still smiles at him with all the love in the world, fussing at his hair and his suit.  God, he has missed her.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Are you alright, sweetheart?”

Mom’s hands are cool over his forehead.

“Is Peter alright?”  The voice makes Peter freeze.  “Do you have a fever, Peter?”

“Dad…”

Dad goes to make an even bigger fuss than Mom, checking his pulse and his glands.  Peter can’t take his eyes off of him. 

_Dad…_

“Daddy…”

“Yes, Peter?  You’re a bit warmer than normal but…”

 _‘It’s cancer.  Here, here and here.  We’ll have to administer a full scan and order blood works.’_  
_‘Sorry Mom.  Sorry Dad.  I’m not strong enough and not healthy enough to make it through this.’_  
_‘Sorry, Wade.  You should find someone better, someone who’s not in their deathbed, counting down the days.’_  
_‘I love you.’_  
_‘If you love me, you would let me let you go.’_

Wade is at his side, a supportive arm pressed against Peter’s back.  Peter feels likes his body has frozen. 

_Cancer?  I have cancer?_

Wade is talking to his parents, whom Peter can’t help but stare at them.  Both Mom and Dad alternate from looking up at Wade and at Peter’s face.  Peter focuses on breathing, on his parents’ faces, on Wade’s voice and starts to calm down.  Different people come and go, from Tony Stark and Pepper Potts, to others closer to Peter’s parents’ age.  Each of them end their conversation with shaking of Peter’s hand, telling him variations of congratulations on the success of the evening.  Peter smiles and thanks them for making it to the event, talking about wine and the hors d’oeuvres.  He spots a familiar face in the crowd.

“There’s Johnny. I’m going to say hi,” Peter says to Wade, who nods and smiles at him widely.  Peter leans in, putting a hand over Wade’s shoulder.  The hand glides over to Wade’s strong nape.  It feels so familiar, against his palm, along his fingertips, and Peter enjoys the texture of short hair he runs his fingers through, and the warm skin of his neck.  Wade leans down to kiss his temple, and the corner of his lips.  “Go ahead.  I’ll be here.”

Peter lets go, reluctantly.

He wonders if…  He gulps, his smile fading.  If Deadpool would feel like that…  Warm and solid and…

Peter shakes the thought away.

“Hey, Petey.” Johnny meets him halfway, giving him a friendly, tight embrace.

“Hey, Johnny. Thanks for coming,” Peter keeps the greeting almost too formal.  He would have thrown some joke at Johnny Storm, if he were Human Torch.  But he gets a feeling that he and Johnny are just as close.

“It’s your big night.  I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Maybe for that hot redhead you were talking to.” Peter nudges him with his elbow.

“She’s half the reason why I’m here in the first place.” Johnny laughs loudly.

Peter almost wants to ask about this world, about the Fantastic Four or the Avengers or…  But the little memories that seep into his head as he meets each person, tell him that there are no such things as superheroes or masked vigilantes or evil villains.  He’s just plain Peter Parker, with parents who are still alive, and a husband.  His friends are just a bunch of ‘normal’ people who care about him.  Everything Peter feels, even just by being around Wade, he knows that this Peter is loved.  Peter finds that he’s enjoying that feeling; the lack of loss and heartbreak.

Johnny makes him laugh, and Peter feels good and happy.

“So, uh, how are you feeling?”

Peter is thrown by the careful question.  Oh, right, the cancer.  “I’m okay.”

“You look a bit flushed.”

“I’m just… nervous.”

Johnny nods at his answer, and pats his arm.  “You’ll do fine.”

“Thanks…”

Right then, the redheaded woman who’d been speaking to Johnny before approaches them.  Peter readies himself to step away but she addresses him.

“Mr. Parker?  It’s almost time.”

“Oh, right.”

She has a black leather-bound folder, which she opens up and pulls out a set of notecards.  She hands them to him.  “All you have to do is read them.  We practiced all day yesterday, so you’ll do fine.”

“Where’s… Where’s Wade?”

“I’ll go look for him.  You’ll have to be at the stage though.”

“Don’t worry, Natasha.  I’ll find Wade.” Johnny volunteers, then wiggles his brows to the woman.

“Thank you, Mr. Storm.  Mr. Parker,” Natasha leads the way and Peter figures there’s no choice but to follow.  Peter fidgets, pulling at his collar and bowtie.  When they make it to the edge of the small stage, Natasha tuts and scolds Peter with her bright green eyes.  She fixes the collar and tie, and his hair, picking off lint from his shoulders.  “You’ll do great.  Keep your eyes on the cards and read.  Talk into the mic.  No one expects you to make a grand speech and eye contact.”

As Peter tries to not hyperventilate, Wade walks up to him with his parents.  Natasha tells Dad that it’s time.  Peter feels numb through Dad’s introduction.  Dad’s always been good with people, being the easy to approach type, and trustworthy.  Mom is the gentle, quiet woman who everyone just loves, even after meeting her once.  Peter in this world must be similar to him, shy, awkward, a little too enthusiastic about science.  Peter holds Wade’s hand tight, even though his palm and fingers feel clammy.

“And now it is my honor to call my son and his husband, Peter and Wade Wilson-Parker, to the stage.”  Dad finishes as the crowd applauds.

Wade squeezes his hand once, giving him a quick smile, and leads him up the stage.  Dad steps back as Peter and Wade stand behind the narrow podium.  Wade whispers, “Just like we practiced.”

Wade doesn’t let go of his hand as he leans forward into the mic.  “Good evening, everyone, for being with us tonight as we celebrate the one-year anniversary of Peter Parker Foundation.”

When everyone claps and cheers, Peter tries to think about what Peter Parker Foundation is.  He looks around the room, and surely enough there are banners and signs that have those words on them.  And everyone is wearing little circle buttons in red and blue on their lapels or dresses.  Wade starts again when the noise dies down.

“When my Peter was diagnosed with cancer five years ago—”

 _Peter signs over all of his inheritance to cancer research._  
_He starts up a charity foundation to raise money for cancer research, with help from Parker Industries._  
_He coughs up blood for the first time in the tiny hospital bed he's been living in for months._  
_He tells his family that he’s not going to make it._  
_He makes Wade Wilson the sole proprietor of the Foundation._  
_Wade tells him, under one circumstance._  
_And Wade kneels down and pulls out a ring._

_Peter says, no._

“Oh…” Peter whimpers quietly.  _Oh_ …

“Peter?” Wade calls him. 

By the sound of the audience’s applause, Wade has finished his part of the speech.  Peter shifts to move, leaning forward into the mic.  Peter removes his glasses to wipe at his eyes and nose and tells him, “It’s alright.”

Peter gathers himself, pulling out the deck of notecards.  He clears his throat, and tries to read the words on the cards.  He spots Johnny, Tony, and other people he recognizes.  In this world, Peter had been the one who said, no.  He’d refused the one important question in his life.  This Peter had been happiest in that moment.  Peter can feel the enormous amount of happiness.  And he’d said, no…  Because…  He’d not wanted to leave Wade alone, and Wade had said…

Peter gently pulls his hand from Wade’s, holding the stack of cards in both.  He knows the words, the appropriate speech written by a professional, with a list of names he is supposed to mention with a token of thanks.  All so…  Corporate.  Not _Peter_.  He stuffs them back into his pocket.  From the corner of his eyes, he sees Natasha screaming silently at him.

“Hi.  I’m Peter,” he starts with that.  The crowd laughs, adoringly.  It’s a strange kind of laughter to receive, especially when he’d only had people laugh _at_ him, most of his life, at his awkward nature.  “I’ve got this speech I’m supposed to read… But that’s boring.  So, I’m just…  Going to talk.”

Peter grips the edges of the podium.  His heart is racing.

“I had this dream that… I was a superhero.”

Everyone chuckles.  Even Wade.

“I could climb walls with my hands and feet, with no ropes, and I had these… ‘web-shooters’ that I could shoot super strong webs out of and swing around all over the city, or catch bad guys and rescue kittens and basically, save the day.  Or, at least, tried to.

“I would get hurt but one of my superpowers was making me heal fast, so a few hours later, you wouldn’t know that I’d gotten punched here, or got cut there or…  I wouldn’t get sick, like…  I wouldn’t ever get sick with stuff like cancer.”

Peter smiled through the sounds of adorations and heavy sighs across the room.

“And I woke up and I’m here and I’m still kind of pretending that I’m a superhero and that I’m not as sick, but you know I’m not as sick as I was a year ago, or two years ago, or the year before that.  I’m just really happy to be here with my parents and my Wade.  With my friends and associates and everyone who care enough about this cause to donate your time, your talents and, of course, your money."

Peter pauses through the gentle laughter.

"I was lucky enough to have parents and friends who love me and to take care of me, to nurse me back to health.  I'm lucky to have the support of so many people.  This Foundation was started because not everyone is fortunate enough to have that.  Not everyone is fortunate enough to have access to healthcare or medication or early screening."

Peter pulls the cards out to shuffle for the numbers, reading the short statistics on what the Foundation has accomplished in the past year.

"I know I'm not a superhero," Peter smiles fondly.  "I'm not even a good person sometimes.  But someone once told me that 'with great powers, comes great responsibilities' and I will strive until the end of my days to uphold the responsibility to try to be... the best Peter Parker I can be."

Peter turns to the final notecard, recalling the announcement at the end of the speech from the fragments of memories.  He reads, "And the Peter Parker Foundation is proud to announce, Parker Industries has, with collaborative efforts from Stark Pharmaceuticals and PYM, a new cancer treatment after multiple successful trials.  Currently called ‘PPSP’ for lack of a better name, but I’m sure the wonderful doctors and scientists here in the room can explain better about them better than I can. So thank you for your continued support to the Peter Parker Foundation."

A loud ovation breaks out and he feels his heart racing and the adrenaline rushing through his system.  Natasha is next to him after a few seconds, holding a tray of tall champagne flutes.  Peter takes one, and steps back as Dad takes his place at the podium.  Dad makes a toast to Peter and the Foundation, as cheering voices mix and get muddled in to the air.  Peter feels numb.  He almost drops the flute.

"Do you want to get some air?  People will want to shake your hand soon." Wade places a warm hand over his shoulder blade.  Peter doesn’t want anything else but that.

"Yes.  Please."

Wade leads him out, taking the flutes and handing them back to Natasha.  They find a large terrace to step out onto, isolated and dark.  It is a chilly evening but Peter finds that calming.  He closes his eyes and pretends he's clinging to the lightning spike on the very top of the Empire State Building, listening to the muffled city noise, letting his spider-sense take over.  It feels like the spider-sense is still there, but dulled.  Maybe it’s just his sixth sense, the kind of tingling he’d felt before The Bite, like the prickling on his skin before Flash shoved him into the locker or dodging a basketball thrown at his head.  Peter wonders if he’s physically travelled to this dimension or if it’s just his consciousness.

He doesn’t doubt that this is real.  He believes in different dimensions and alternate universes and timelines co-existing.  It’s easier to dismiss those as fantasies or fun movie plots but he believes they are genuine.  Reed Richards is working hard to prove their existence through science.  He’s met people like Cable that can travel through different dimensions and times, and Deadpool who can vouch having physically gone to other timelines.  Deadpool can survive those ‘trips’ because his healing factor keeps his brain from going to mush and keeps his consciousness intact.  Reed had taken that advise and not done the dimension skips himself.  Yet.  Maybe he’s been making things like that device to aide in dimension travels.  Oh, yeah, those devices…

Peter startles when strong arms enclose his shivering body.

“You’re wonderful,” Wade’s low voice whispers into his ear.

“I hope that speech was okay.  I saw Natasha freaking out over there.”

Wade chuckles softly.  The warm breaths tickles Peter’s neck.

“It was a good speech but I wasn’t talking about that.”

“Oh?” Peter gulps.

“Yes, Peter Wilson-Parker, you clueless, wonderful man.”

Peter turns into Wade’s heat, standing on tip-toes to wrap his arms around his neck.  Wade holds him tight, fingers drawing soothing circles against his back.

Peter wants to laugh or to sob, possibly both.  He doesn’t understand yet just how he ended up in this world, but he’s here, being held by the person Peter had decided to fall in love with, his Mom and Dad are alive here, and things aren’t horrible.  He wants to remain here.  Live and be held inside of Wade’s strong arms, breathe in his scent not laced with gunpowder and the metallic pang of blood and weapons.  Here, he’s…

He’s not Spiderman here.

“Let’s go inside.  You’re shivering.”  Wade says.

He is not Spiderman here.  As much as he hates the double-life, the constant worry and paranoia, Peter doesn’t want to _not_ be Spiderman.  Maybe…  Just maybe…  He’s not allowed to have everything.  Even in this world, he’s got his parents, who are currently speaking to Tony Stark, laughing and making big gestures with their hands.  He’s got Wade, who’s holding his hand, who doesn’t have the scars and who loves him.  And he’s got cancer in this world…  Peter Parker isn’t supposed to have a perfect life.  No romance movie happy endings.  He wants to go back.

He needs to go back.

“I want to go back…” Peter whispers.

“Sweetheart?” Wade looks at him with concern.

“I want to go back.”

 _I need to be Spiderman.  I hadn’t realized how important Spiderman is to me, until it’d been taken away_.

“Okay.  Let’s go home.  I’ll call for the car.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -This universe Peter's come to, no one has super powers.  
> -Peter has cancer in this universe. :(  
> -And Wade does not have a disfigurement.
> 
> -Peter's never met Black Widow/Natasha so he has no idea what she looks like. I love their spidery ways.  
> -Earth # was random.
> 
> Very top 4 lines are from film 'Empire Records'.
> 
> I edited this like four times but I might have missed something, and if you notice something, please feel free to tell me. :)  
> Peter is very confused in this chapter because he's in a new environment and he's dragged into a huge event where he meets his real parents and find out he's very sick. :(
> 
> Next chapter will have some answers to the questions you're probably asking. :)
> 
> Another note - I am updating faster than I would, like, ever. Because - Labor Day tomorrow (yay!) and about 30% of my work is currently suspended because of the hurricane :( Please donate if you have some cash :(  
> /I don't live in TX. I had some projects down in TX but my company thought it would be better for me to not go down there./
> 
> [09.03.2017]


	3. Part 1: Earth-16896 - Chapter 2

When Peter wakes up, he doesn’t understand where he is.  The unfamiliar room and the soft duvet and sheets over his body upset him.  The pillows are piled beneath his head, too soft and too many.  Peter’s never slept on comfortable mattress like this before and it’s almost alarming.  He thrusts his arm out, punching at his palm with his fingers to shoot a web.  There is nothing.  He grabs his glasses off the small table.  He can see now.  He ends up staring at his surroundings.  He stares down at his hands and arms, and the gold ring around his finger.

Ah, yes, Peter remembers now. Alternate timeline.

He calls out timidly, “Wade?”

There’s no answer so Peter climbs out of bed and the bedroom.  It’s quiet but for the faint sounds of air conditioning rotors from somewhere through the vents overhead.  He finds a note on the kitchen island.  Wade writes in neat block letters.  ‘I’m headed off to work. There’s food and a protein shake for you in the fridge if you’re still not feeling well. Remember to take your medication. I made an appointment with Dr. Banner today at 3 so I’ll be home at lunch time. I love you. Wade.’

Peter finds himself standing there with the note pressed to his mouth after a while. 

His head doesn’t hurt as much today.  There aren’t any more memories flooding in.  He eventually gets the protein shake out and gulps down the green drink.  He studies the refrigerator, taking in the way the food stuffs are all stacked nicely, the bottles of condiments on the side, and the lack of anything alcoholic.  The saran-wrapped plate catches his attention when his stomach growls for something more.  Peter grabs the plate and takes it into the living room with the protein shake.  He turns the television on to a news channel, but mutes it.  Peter stares down at the plate, wondering what the hell kind of life he’s living.  It’s genuine lox and cream cheese on multigrain bagel with different kinds of vegetables.  Peter chews on a baby carrot, studying the news on the big screen.  The date is what he remembers and the weather is nice for early autumn.  The headlines scroll across the bottom of the screen as the anchor reads the news.  There’s still war and there’s still bad things going on but there is nothing about any aliens or superhuman villains.  There’s no news about The Avengers or the Fantastic Four or Spiderman in New York.

Peter sighs.  He takes a big bite of the breakfast.  Peter groans at the taste.  The lox seems to melt over his tongue.  He’s never had breakfast this good before.  He shakes his head.  He shouldn’t get used to this.  When he goes back to his world, he’ll be having the standard apple or maybe a granola bar for breakfast.  He takes another bite though, savoring the awesome taste.

He notices a laptop sitting on the coffee table.  Peter drums his fingers nervously before pulling it towards him.  The stuff in the apartment are ‘his’ things so he should not be nervous about using it.  It turns on without grief.  He chews the rest of his breakfast slowly as he scrolls through webpages.

“Okay.  Okay, Peter Parker.  This is just… all science.  And research.  We can do this.”

He clicks on the email button.  There are some spam and junk.  There is a familiar name.

“Gwen Stacey?” The name stabs him directly in the gut.  He clicks the email to open it.

Gwen greets him in a friendly way Peter’s missed dearly, asking him how he and Wade are doing, and what she’s been up to in London.  She writes a long paragraph about her current research.  She finishes her email by telling him how sorry she is that she’s missed the Foundation’s party.  She suggests that he and Wade visit her in London when he’s feeling better.  Peter wants to reply but he isn’t sure if he can do that without her figuring out he’s not… Peter.  So, he saves the email for later.  He scrolls through the other emails.  There’s one from Dr. Banner’s office confirming their appointment today that Wade’s called in.  Peter gets an idea and searches through his emails for older emails from Dr. Banner.  But their only contents are things like appointment reminders and prescription renewals.  So, Peter searches the medications.  He spends about an hour going through different medical websites.  Then an idea hits him and he pulls his sweatpants down.

There is supposed to be a faint scar from being shot through his leg, skin raised and paler.  Spiderman heals quickly enough but if it’s deep enough or slightly ‘burnt’ like the close-range bullet had been, they leave scars.  But this Peter does not have that scar.  Peter searches through the rest of his body for the other marks on his body that he remembers but there are none of those.  Peter makes a mental note that his body must still be back in ‘his world’ while his mind or consciousness has traveled to ‘this world’.

Deadpool’s device lets him physically relocate.  So far, Peter knows that Deadpool can use the device to instantaneously teleport his body on Earth, and in the same ‘universe’.  Peter’s only heard stories and never asked about the side-effects of teleporting from one universe to another.  Peter deduces that Deadpool is unaffected physically and psychologically because of his super healing factor.  After all, Deadpool had rescued him once from the likes of Mysterio, playing games with his head.

Also, Peter hadn’t been wearing the teleporter.  Wade always had it on his body to be able to use it properly.  So, it must have been Reed’s device that caused this (hopefully temporary) dimension travel.

The time on the television screen reads close to noon.  Wade will be here soon so Peter decides to take a shower and get ready.  There are a lot of unanswered questions, like if he is conscious in this world, then where is ‘this Peter’s’ consciousness?  Or, what is going on with his body in ‘his world’?

Under the hot spray of water, Peter lets his muscles relax, rubbing shampoo into his hair.  It smells like peaches.  After the hours thinking too much about science, Peter gets to thinking about Wade instead.  He’d been too dizzy and overwhelmed with too many things the day before, but he takes advantage of alone-time and categorizes the separate memories as best as he can.

This Wade… doesn’t make any overly sexual innuendos or references to things Peter can only guess at.  Peter’s pretty sure that Deadpool-Wade is in his mid-thirties.  This-Wade is closer to Peter’s age.  They’re both very warm, temperature-wise.  Peter had been sure it was the Deadpool suit (or perhaps his yet-to-be-explained skin condition) that made Deadpool-Wade warmer than most.  But This-Wade had been so warm, holding Peter close in the car or in bed, and Peter had been drawn to the heat, curling up into it.  This-Wade had smiled at him in that way that Peter had imagined Deadpool-Wade had, under his mask, staring down at Peter for longer than it should last between two friends.  Or his fingertips, lingering over Peter’s arm or his shoulder, just at an arm’s length because Deadpool-Wade never let them any closer – the same long, strong fingers shifting through Peter’s hair, over his forehead, had been so loving.

But Wade had rejected him.  Peter rubs soap over his skin vigorously.  He doesn’t want to go back to that moment but he does.  Wade in his Deadpool mask and This-Wade’s faces and features and soft eyes interlace and torture him because Peter knows, he is so certain, that Wade loves him back.

Just as Peter wraps a large soft towel around his waist, he hears the front door open.

“Peter?” Wade’s voice is the same.  This-Wade or Deadpool-Wade… Peter can’t help the way his heart pounds when he calls to him.  That, he can categorize as being a universal thing.  Peter walks out of the bathroom, toothbrush still in his mouth.

And Wade looks at him like he is everything in the world beautiful and wonderful.  Peter can certainly feel a blush spreading throughout his face and neck.

“I brought sandwiches,” Wade stammers out, holding up the brown bag in his hand.

“I’m not very hungry…” Peter says through the foam.  “I just ate.”

“That’s good. You haven’t been sleeping very well lately so, um, yeah.  It’s good that you slept in.  Take your time, Pete.  We’ve still got about an hour before we have to leave.  I’ll… uh, be… in the kitchen.”  Wade smiles sheepishly and walks towards the kitchen.

Peter goes back to the bathroom to finish brushing his teeth and blow dry his hair.  It sticks up in the oddest directions but Peter’s long given up on his hair being manageable.  He chooses some comfortable trousers and a clean-smelling tee shirt from their closet.  His footsteps are soft and silent over the thick carpet.  Wade’s back is turned from his direction, sitting on one of the tall stools of the kitchen island.  When Peter reaches him, putting a hand over his arm, Wade startles, yelping and dropping the half-eaten sandwich on the counter.

“Holy shit…  You surprised me.”

“Sorry.”

Wade looks at him, studying Peter.

“What?” Peter tries to smile.

Peter feels goosebumps rising over his skin at Wade’s expression.  Almost like Wade is regarding him like he’s…  He’s not Peter.

So, Peter leans into Wade, desperately searching in his memories for things that Peter is to Wade.  This Peter doesn’t walk softly, bumping into table corners and dropping things all the time.  He’s messy, always misplacing things, and This-Wade absolutely adores that, verbally complaining but picking up after Peter, giving him kisses all over.  Peter tilts his head a little, wrapping his fingers around Wade’s neck and jaws.

“You’ve got mustard here,” Peter whispers.  Wade’s face changes, tension fading.  Peter wonders if it’s alright to kiss Wade.  This-Wade that This-Peter is married to, whose body Peter is currently occupying through a weird accident, whom his alternate universe counterpart Deadpool-Wade is someone Peter wants to kiss desperately, but…

_He’s not mine_ …

But Wade kisses him.  Peter whines against the soft pressure over his lips.  He’s never been kissed like this.  Hungrily or softly, the heated sessions of kisses and huffs of mingled breaths, or hesitant and abating, yes, but never like this. Never this _loved_. Familiar.

Peter wants to get away, let This-Peter return to his body and kiss Wade this way because he doesn’t deserve this. It isn’t his. But Peter melts into it. He loses his train of thought, content on matching the soft and firm pressure of the lips, the swipes of tongue over his. Peter pulls away to breathe properly. Wade lets out a soft chuckle. Peter worries if it’s all wrong and that Wade’s figured out that he’s not…

“We need to get going, baby.” Wade runs his fingers through Peter’s hair. Peter grips the counter for a minute to steady his shaking legs and vibrating chest.

  

They take a cab towards downtown. Peter has decided to pocket Deadpool’s and Reed’s devices, just in case they do something while he’s not around. The doctor’s office is in a small renovated brownstone that’s survived the modernization the neighboring buildings have been submitted to. It doesn’t smell like a hospital but Peter tightens his grip on Wade’s arm anyway. They sit in the waiting area, filling out the paperwork. Peter vaguely jots down how he feels because he’s unsure how he’s supposed to feel. There are no pains and he’s going to account his headaches to the switch. He adds about the hot flash because Wade is reading through the list with him.

“Peter? Dr. Banner is ready to see you now.” The nurse calls to him. He hands over the clipboard. Wade remains seated, giving him a flat smile.

Dr. Bruce Banner has a kind face under a curly mop of brown hair. Peter, as Spiderman, has only seen ‘The Hulk’, but he sees the resemblance in a way. Peter sits after a handshake, waiting for Dr. Banner to go over his paperwork. After the conversation about how Peter is feeling, he gets his blood pressure and temperature taken.

“Everything’s great so far,” Dr. Banner tells him. “Now comes the ouchie part.”

Peter thinks he’ll get some blood drawn from his arm, but Dr. Banner brings out a square machine no bigger than the palm of his hand. The words ‘Stark Pharmaceuticals’ catch his eyes. His forefinger is dabbed with an alcohol pad. Dr. Banner guides the finger over the small oval on the machine. Peter winces when he feels the small prick. It collects maybe three drops of blood. Dr. Banner connects the machine to his computer, letting a program run an analysis, then cleans the tiny wound and wraps a band-aide on it.

“So, you’ve had a hot flash yesterday?” Dr. Banner asks.

“Yeah. Right before the dinner… thing…”

“Oh. Sorry I missed the gala, by the way. My wife wasn’t feeling well.”

Peter doesn’t miss a beat. “How is she?”

“She’s fine. It’s expected in the first trimester. Tony says your speech went well?”

“I guess so.” Peter shrugs. Before anymore small talk can ensue, the computer pings. Dr. Banner fixes his glasses over the bridge of his nose than studies the figures on the computer monitor. Peter fidgets, hoping it’s not bad news. He focuses on the little machine, wondering about the mechanics of it. Maybe the Tony Stark of his universe is already working on something like that. Maybe he can make something like that; a machine that can analyze blood work using a few drops instead of a vial.

“Peter, you are only taking the prescribed medications, right?”

“Yes.” Peter counts them out in his head. “Five in the day and seven pills at night.”

Dr. Banner double checks Peter’s file to make sure that that is the case.

“You haven’t been taking the experimental medication that Parker Industries is developing?”

“No. Just the prescriptions.”

“This is incredible, Peter. You’re almost in complete remission. There is less than 2% trace of the cancer cells in your blood.”

Peter’s jaw drops in a dumbfounded expression. He searches the scattered memories for the last time he’s been screened. He comes up blank, but by Dr. Banner’s reaction, perhaps This-Peter had been in not-so-good condition.

“I want to send you to get a full check-up,” Dr. Banner says as he prepares the necessary paper works. “Would you like to call in your husband? He’ll be happy to hear this.”

_Husband_ … He will never get used that word. “Yes, please.”

The nurse brings Wade into the office after the short phone call to the front desk. Wade’s face is full of worry, eyes glossy, breath held for the bad news. Peter puts his hand out for Wade, who grips it firmly as he sits beside him.

“Good news, doc?” Wade says hopefully but his voice is gravelly and low.

“Yes,” Dr. Banner answers with a smile. “I think Peter is going to be alright.”

“Oh my god!” Wade gasps.

What Peter doesn’t expect is for him to start weeping so openly with stuttered breaths through Dr. Banner’s optimistic explanation. It breaks Peter’s heart and then mends from Wade’s kisses.

 

\--- 

  

Peter suggests they walk, to which Wade nods quietly. Their fingers are laced and hot. The afternoon sun is blinding through the spaces between the tall buildings. It’s a warm day, noisy with traffic and population moving around them. They walk in silence, stopping at the intersections, waiting for the light to turn, strolling up the streets with the flow. And Peter can only think about Wade’s solid presence, his warmth and the subtle breeze in the air.

They stop again, watching for cars. Peter leans into Wade, kissing his shoulder. He looks up into Wade’s eyes.

“Do you want to walk around some more? We can go through the park?” Wade’s voice is still husky.

Peter nods, letting Wade lead them into Central Park. There are lots of people taking advantage of a beautiful day, children and dogs, couples who don’t pay attention to anything else but their partner. Wade purchases two overpriced water bottles from a vendor, handing one to Peter. They find a spot that’s relatively quiet, under a tree and lean back against its cool body. Peter sips the water, watching the joggers and bikers pass in front of them. A curious squirrel inch towards them until it realizes that they have no food, then bounces away into a shrub.

“Do you know the worst thing I’ve ever done is, Peter?”

“No…”

“I’ve often thought about what I would do if you didn’t make it. If you died. I thought about who I would call first, or which suit I would pick for you to be buried in, or what sort of funeral I would have to have arranged… I thought about things like that.”

“Oh…”

“Ninety-nine times out of a hundred doctor visits, I would think about hearing those words, ‘Peter’s all healed’. But one out of a hundred, I would try to prepare for the opposite.” Wade drains the rest of his water, squashing the plastic bottle in his hand after. “I’m such a terrible person.”

“You’re not.” Peter touches Wade, fingers wrapping around his arm, rubbing his palm over his skin. He doesn’t know what he can say to make Wade feel better. This-Peter might, but he does not. “What’s the best thing you’ve ever done?”

Wade chuckles. “I saw this skinny freshman coming out of the science building at four every Thursday and one day, decided to stop him. His big brown eyes look at me like… I asked him if he thinks I was going to hit him or something, and he nods. So cute and so scared, holding three big textbooks in his thin arms. I wanted to see him smile so I made the worst joke about science, like ever, and what he does is correct me, in all seriousness. So, I asked what his name was. That was the best thing I ever did.”

Peter tries to dig around for that memory but can’t find it. As if This-Peter is holding on to it, just for himself, not allowing Peter to see it or experience it. It is a precious memory and he’s thankful to hear it from Wade. He needs to go back, let This-Peter come back into his body, beat down cancer fully, and live a wonderful life with this magnificent man.

Peter rises, giving his hand to Wade to help him up. Wade lets Peter pull him up, and with too much force, winds up with Wade almost knocking him down. But Wade holds him safely, arms wrapping securely around his body. Peter laughs along with Wade, their feet stumbling around over the grass to steady their body.

Wade breathes against his temple, “I love you, Baby Boy.”

Everything fades away in to darkness.

\--- 

 

Peter startles into consciousness, by the familiar ringtone of his phone. It twinkles its melody then stops. Peter thrashes about from his chair for the phone. When his eyes focus, he’s staring at the small bed, sheets twisted around the blanket, half falling off of the mattress and the lopsided pillow where his phone rests on top of. His head hurts. The pictures he’s taped on the wall are his. The beat-up laptop is his. Web-shooters, his. Spiderman suit squished in his backpack, his. He opens up his computer and double taps on the internet browser. It’s still the same day, a few minutes since he last remembers, but definitely not two days. Two days of…

His phone rings again. Peter reaches over to grab it and swipes over the screen to answer.

“Hey Pete! Reed keeps bugging me to call you back to ask you to come to dinner. Susie’s making… some kind of pasta thing, I don’t know.”

Right… Johnny… He spoke to him… A few minutes ago… Right?

“Oh, not tonight. I’ve got… I have to do some stuff…”

“Ugh. Give Susie a call later. Reed is driving me nuts. See ya when I get back!”

“Bye, Johnny.”

Peter blows air into his hair. He goes back to his desk, slumping over the two devices. First, he distances them. He pokes at Reed’s device, pressing a button on the side carefully. Knowing Reed, it might just show the time. It displays over the black surface, green numbers, 16896.

“Huh,” Peter observes. He quickly grabs a notebook and jots down the numbers.

There is this theory Reed likes to talk about, how an infinite number of universes are happening at the same ‘time’. He’d called this present Earth, ‘616’, with no meaning, just a random set of numbers. Peter writes in big letters, ‘616-Peter’. Just to make sure, he places his fingertips over the paper, concentrating. The paper sticks to his fingertips. Peter sighs with relief, letting the sheaf fall back down. He writes in a bullet, ‘Spiderman – Yes!’. Just to make sure, he searches the internet for keywords like ‘Fantastic Four’ or ‘Iron Man’ or ‘Captain America’. There are millions of search results for those words. He hesitates but types ‘Spiderman’ into the search box, then looks through the news tabs. The Daily Bugle has published another news story about Spiderman’s ‘misdeeds’ but what else is new. He taps out ‘Deadpool’. The latest headlines all point a certain bloody murder scene to Deadpool but Peter doesn’t spend long reading through those. He closes the browser. He writes down, ‘Super heroes – Yes.’

He takes a break to get a drink of water and to inspect his apartment. It’s just as haphazard as he remembers. Clothes everywhere, books mostly in those three piles and a few dirty bowls and plates. He picks up them up to carry them to the sink, soaking them. After sighing into his empty refrigerator and checking his wallet, he decides to order a large plain pizza because he has had a rough day and he is starved. Cleaning up his apartment feels good, separating clean clothes with dirty, not that he has a lot but that is reason enough he feels the need to go to the laundromat very soon. Dirty clothes are in the big laundry bag and now sitting by the door. He finishes washing the dishes when the doorbell buzzes. Peter sits on the couch with the box of pizza and notebook, chewing slowly as he jots down notes.

Under ‘616-Peter’, he writes things like the address of his apartment, about Aunt May and other people he knows, like The Avengers, and then another list of people who know his identity under the mask, like Johnny or Wade. _Wade_ … Peter takes a big bite of the pizza, letting the grease trail over his chin. He smears it over his skin with the back of his hand. He writes, ‘Wade rejected 616-Peter.’

He goes back a few pages and writes ‘16896-Peter’. He writes down bullets of information he can still remember, keeping it as scientific as he can. He still can’t remember how he ended up there, or how he returned. The final bullet is ‘Dream’ with seven question marks following it. He crosses it out. Instead, he writes below it, ‘Can I replicate this?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's not edited as heavily as I would like it to be so there may be some things... wrong. Or misspelled.  
> *Whomp* I thought I posted this past saturday but I guess it just saved. I'm sorry. 
> 
> Q4 is killing me. But I should be grateful I even have a job. (right?) Ugh.  
> (I don't ever play but) If I win the lottery, I want to buy a small house in Montauk and retire forever with thirty cats.
> 
> Always, I would love to read some feedback. Or, not. I dunno. <3
> 
> [Update 2017.11.07]


	4. Part 02 – Earth 4500 – Ch 01

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short Chapter. Hello! (Anyone still out there?) Sorry about the long wait. Work, life, blah blah. Just all so blah.
> 
> So I give you... New characters! New dimension(?)!  
> Hope you like this. It'll be less sad than the previous part. Fun adventure, I swear.

Part 02 – Earth 4500 – Ch 01

  

It takes a while for Peter to come to terms with this new idea of traveling through dimensions. He spends time at the library, staring at the book titles until the librarian startles him. She gently tells him that the library is about to close and asks if he needs help finding anything. He ends up borrowing all of Reed Richards’ books as well as one by Bruce Banner on the physics of time and space travel. He spends the entire night reading. None of them give him any explanation on his recent experience, only setting up theories about the possibilities. Peter does find Reed's theory of coexisting Earths to be interesting but in his own scientific mind, doesn’t equate to anything tangible. It’s a wonder any reputable scientist takes Reed seriously.

Maybe it had been an intricate dream. But Peter can’t just dismiss the experience as that. The memories have remained in his head. How it had felt to be with Wade, to be touched and to touch, and having Mom and Dad and friends.

Three days go by without finding answers.

Three nights, he spends tireless evenings in his suit. Crime rates are at its lowest in New York City, thanks to all the superheroes. The Avengers deal with the scary alien, monster type stuff, or going off to fight in some international conflicts, while The Fantastic Four have their trials against their own enemies and natural disasters. That leaves just a handful of superheroes in the city to deal with common criminals and thieves. Peter has learned his lesson from Captain Stacy as a teenager, to let the police take care of the things even though it pains him to catch the sounds of a scream or a car crash in the air.

On the third night, Peter’s phone rings while he’s dangling, calculating the next point to safely shoot a web for maximum leverage to stay afloat above the sounds. He lets it go to voicemail, unable to use his hands to answer the call. When he lands on a rooftop, he pulls the phone out to find a missed call and a text message from Wade Wilson. Nervously, he taps the screen.

**Wade:**  I’m out of the country right now. Can you hold on to it for a little longer? Thanks for fixing it.

Peter stares down at the screen. Wade sounds rather sarcastic, all the correct grammar and punctuations, not a trace of emojis he usually… Er, used to text with. He doesn’t know if he wants to cry or curse. He settles for going home. 

His apartment greets him with the alarms beeping. He punches in the numbers in the alarm system keypad. The beeping gives him a headache. He eyes the rooms as he peels off the suit. He throws the blue and red spandex at his bed, listening to it fall and land softly on the carpet. Face in his palms, he breathes through the frustrations, fighting the itching under his eyes, the tears overflowing out of them even though he has no reason to be crying. Through the blurry field of vision, he grabs the two devices he’s been storing separately, one in his desk drawer and the other with his socks. Peter climbs into bed, untangling the sheets. He starts to poke at the buttons on each device. Nothing happens.

“Just want to get out of here. Just for a little while.”

Maybe he needs a vacation. Tony Stark takes them all the time and the world still stands. Even Reed and Susie. Johnny, too. Peter sighs. Not as if he has the funds to go anywhere. It’s just a nice idea. To be away from everything. Run away, just like Wade is doing. Peter thinks maybe Wade has the right idea, getting paid to take care of some shady people. They are all, mostly, bad people anyway. And Peter wouldn’t kill them. That’s not what Spiderman stands for.

Peter falls asleep.

The teleportation device lights up the room, and Reed’s device following suit, flashing brilliant lights as Peter sleeps through all of it.

  

\---  

  

Peter startles awake. Air feels compact and he struggles to breathe. Someone shakes him by the shoulders.

I can't see. I can't hear. I can't breathe.

Calm down. Take a deep breath.

I can't do anything. I can't move.

"He's going into shock," a voice floats around him.

A mask fits over his nose and mouth.

"Take a deep breath, Peter. Good. Just keep doing that."

Dim light fills Peter's vision. There's a hand over his cheek, stroking him gently.

"You're doing good, Peter. Breathe."

When he finds focus, there's a woman with long, dark hair. She pushes back the sweat soaked hair from his face.

_Mom_...?

"Is he awake?" A sharp male voice comes from behind her. Peter blinks to make the fuzziness go away. He can't see a second person but his vision clears enough to make out the woman in front of him. She reminds him of Mom except that... her skin is a smooth green. Huh...

"His vitals are getting better. No cryo-shock. They really made him better, huh?"

Something jumps up on his leg. Peter jerks, hitting his head against the wall.

"Rocket, stop that!"

"What? I didn't hit his head."

"Peter? Can you see me?"

The small weight is removed from his legs. Rapid words of complaint get drowned out by the woman's foreign language.

"I'm going to remove the mask, Peter. Air pressure is denser than Earth but your body will adjust. Continue to take deep, slow breaths." The woman says. Peter nods. He studies the woman's large eyes.

"Good. You're doing well."

"I'm going to throw up."

"I am Groot."

An overgrown houseplant swings a bucket over to him. A moving. Plant. Giant. Moving. Plant.

"Holy hell! What the fuck is that?!"

The plant gapes at him. "I am Groot!" It sounds shocked.

"He's got some memory loss."

"What the fuck is this?!" Peter shouts at the racoon climbing up on his legs. It stands on its hind legs, dressed in a sleek suit, aiming a device at his head.

"Rocket!" The woman removes the talking racoon by its scruff, handing it over to the plant.

Peter's body reacts by swinging his arms and legs, kicking and punching at the talking creatures that aren't supposed to be doing that. The racoon complains, "I will not be called a 'this' by a meager Terran! You take that back!"

"I am Groot!"

"Yeah! What he said! Sedate it!"

Between the surprisingly strong moving plant, Groot, and the woman, they manage to hold Peter down on the cot.

"I guess we don't have a choice. Peter. We're going to shoot a mild sedative so you calm down."

"Don't touch me!"

"Sorry Peter." The woman apologizes. "Rocket?"

Stings. Peter blacks out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Update 03.13.2018]
> 
> I think I'll go with shorter chapters from here on. Sorry. My braaaaiiinnnn is broken. Tax season is dwindling down so I should have less real life work. :D  
> Kind of.  
> I shall edit tags later. 
> 
> Anyone go to see Angels in America on Broadway yet? (or the past London run?) [Is it worth the ticket price??]


	5. Part 02 – Earth 4500 – Ch 02

Part 02 – Earth 4500 – Ch 02

 

 _In this life, there are nothing but possibilities.  
_ _That’s good._

 

Peter sucks in as much air as possible. He comes back to the dark confined space. His eyes focus faster and better. His limbs don’t feel like noodles. The animate plant is missing. The snarky raccoon as well. Peter thinks maybe he’s dreamed them. He hopes so, at least, but they could be hiding. He looks around, trying to figure out where he is. The room is narrow, with another cot stuck to the opposite wall from the one he’s occupying.

Peter winces as a headache hits just behind his eyes. Footsteps startle him. Peter jumps but his legs don’t let him stay standing. When he’s falling backwards, there’s an arm that catches him at his elbows. He hadn’t heard or felt the man enter through the small entrance. Peter wants to curse.

“Woah, man, steady.”

“Who are you?” Peter demands, pushing the taller man away.

“I’m, uh, Peter.”

Peter groans.

“Quill. Peter Quill. Your memories aren’t quite… Here, yet, I guess?”

“Oh.”

“Do you know your name?”

“Parker. Peter.” He replies carefully.

“Yep. At least there’s that. Do you remember anything else?”

“Yeah… Uh… My apartment in New York. My suit.” _Wade_. Fuck. Stop.

“You remember you’re Spiderman, right? ‘Cause, man, that would be a trippy thing to discover if you’re… Yeah.”

“I remember.” Peter coughs. “Can I have some… Water?”

“Oh, man, the synthesizer’s broken again. Rocket’s working on it. But uh, I have this.” Peter Quill pulls out a small pill. “It should help with the thirst. That’s all we’ve got for now.”

Peter studies the small pill and the other Peter. After a minute he pops it into his mouth. Quill doesn’t seem like the type to cause him harm, and his Spider-senses haven’t gone haywire. After a few seconds his mouth and throat doesn’t feel so dry anymore. Amazing. Peter needs to know what that is. But he’ll save nerdy science questions for later.

“We’ll dock in about twelve hours anyway.”

“Dock?” Is this a ship?

“You don’t… Maybe it’s better to show you? I can’t fathom how much you remember and don’t.” Quill puts his hand out to help Peter get up. “C’mon. We can go up onto the deck.”

Fresh air would do him good. He must have been in a ship for a while. Peter lets Quill hold him up as they ascend a small set of steps to lead up to the so-called deck. It’s just…

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty!”

“He’s not sleeping. He’s awake. Nor is he what I would call ‘Beauty’.”

“I am Groot!”

“It’s a reference to that Terran story! Remember? Quill read it and started crying?”

“I did not! And shut it,” Quill groans, helping Peter sit in a vacant chair. Peter doesn’t pay much attention to the overlapping conversation. He’s too busy comprehending the talking plant, the talking raccoon, the huge guy who’s definitely not human, and the woman he thought he’d dreamed up sitting by the console. So, it’s a ship. Not one he’d been imagining, floating over vast waters. It’s floating in space. Space. Space! He’s in Space! And Outer Space at that.

“Where is… What the fuck is…”

_‘Sleep. We’re going to put you under. You’ll be asleep for a while._   
_You can probably survive the trip without it, but you’re not used to it._   
_We’ll wake you when we’re lightyears away from here._   
_It’s the only way we can ensure your and everyone else’s survival.’_

“Read him the coordinates. See if his Terran mind can comprehend that.”

“Rocket, stop it.” The woman chides the raccoon Rocket, who starts mumbling to himself in a language Peter can’t even identify and then to the plant, waving around some tools frantically. He’s pointing to the woman and to Quill, speaking rapidly. He’s in Outer Space. Rocket’s probably not even speaking in any language he’s heard of on… Earth.

“So, this is it,” Quill says proudly. “She’s called the Milano. She’s… Well, she’s been put back together a few times but she’s mine… She’s my...”

“Piece of Junk?” Rocket quips as Peter supplies, “ _Millennium_ _Falcon_?”

Quill gasps.

“Oh god, finally! Someone who just… Gets it!! Two Peters!! We’ll so totally win!!”

Peter wants to question what he means by ‘win’ but he wants some information first. Like, maybe, who everyone is?

“Hi, I’m Peter by the way. Peter Parker.”

“We know that, dumbass, we scooped you up when Ear—Hey! Let’s me down!”

“I am Groot.”

“Hi.”

“I am Groot.” He shakes Rocket once more before setting him down.

“He’s Rocket?”

“I am Groot!”

“It’s nice to meet you as well.”

Groot twists his limbs, eyes softening in shyness. Peter smiles a little at Groot’s honest display of his emotions.

“I’m Peter Quill. But everyone calls me Star-Lord. I was hoping even if you don’t remember anything else, you’d remember _that_ because it’s awesome. But hey! No complaints.” Rocket starts cackling at Star-Lord. Quill ignores him. He points to the woman, sitting still with her arms crossed over her chest. “That feisty one is Gamora. And this… guyyy… is Drax. Drax the _Destroyer_.”

The air quotes Quill uses don’t register to anyone else but Peter.

“Does he not remember?”

“No, Drax, he doesn’t. He’s been in Cryo for the past Billion Lightyears. He’s not going to be at a hundred percent yet.”

“Billion?”

“Figure of speech. Man, you’re like Drax… No! I didn’t mean that! Don’t even…! Not billion. Just a few hundred.”

Peter stands up, taking a few steps towards the console, staring out to the vast space that is in front of him, beyond the clear plexiglas or whatever the hell it could be. It’s warm to the touch, and not hard like glass. Hard like aluminum.

“It’s picofibros synthetic adamantium. Or that’s what you called it. It can refract light or absorb depending on setting and it can…”

“Act as Ozone.”

“Yes. You called it that.”

“You came to Earth in this. You guys helped…”

It feels like needles are stabbing at his eyeballs from behind, shooting them out from his brain.

_‘You can call us the Guardians of the Galaxy. We’re here to stop Thanos.  
You weak Terrans can rest easy now… Oh my god, what the fuck is that?!’_

 

Peter mumbles out, “What the fuck is a Thanos?”

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update [04.01.2018]
> 
> So this second part - adventures in space - is a story I'd started half writing and half outlining a while back, before I started this fic. But had more intro and etc. Then it evolved into this. :D
> 
> Thank you for all the kudos and all the interest! Blame the lack of quicker updates on this fair government of the country I live in... uh, yeah... Hmm.


	6. Part 02 – Earth 4500 – Ch 03

Part 02 – Earth 4500 – Ch 03

 

Peter had hugged his head when the throbbing returned at maximum. Which means that it feels like a migraine and an earthquake and being punched by the Hulk in the face all at the same time. But his spider powers diminish some of that. It’s annoying and lengthy and hurts. Like a motherfudger. He lays down on the same cot he’d woken up on and tries to breathe through it.

He gets to thinking about the dimension travel before. He’d ended up in a world without Spiderman. Without the Avengers or the X-Men, or any super people, good and bad. It calms him to think about that world, where his Mom and Dad had been alive. Where his friends were just normal people. That world had been roughly the same, time-wise. Peter wonders if this world is at the same time. But he’s, they are, not on Earth. Time is only relative. It only matters that he feels like himself, here, except the heaviness in his heart that something big has happened to them.

The other Peter and gang (Guardians of the Galaxy, they called themselves) hadn’t indulged on what or who Thanos is. Peter had grabbed his head from the onslaught of aches and memories seeping in. Most of the memories, Peter can’t distinguish between _his_ and this Peter’s. It’s Spiderman. It’s New York. It’s fighting bad guys and aliens. There’s Johnny. There’s the Fantastic Four. There’s Ironman and his sarcasm. Captain America and the rest of the Avengers. Fighting them. Fighting _with_ them. And something humongous falling onto Earth from space and…

Wait…

“Wade…?”

Peter needs to know. Right now. He has no memories of Wade.

“Quill?” Peter calls.

He picks up Rocket’s cackling from the deck. Quill comes down with Gamora. Groot pokes his head in from the passage, the small room too crowded.

“What’s up? Feeling better?”

Peter bites the insides of his cheeks. “No not really. I have to know something.”

“If it’s about Thanos…”

“No. Not… That. I’m still processing _this_.” Peter motions with both hands to the ship and deep space.

“It’s unusual, the memory loss. Most come to in a few minutes or less,” Gamora says, concern laced behind her steady words. “It may be because you’re Terran.”

“But he’s got super spider powers. I don’t know the correct term for that or what you want to be referred as. My bad,” Quill says.

“It’s okay. I’ve… had this experience before. The memories are coming back. Just… Selectively.”

“Maybe he’s got a condition,” Gamora shrugs. “Or it’s the—"

“Um… So,” Peter looks at Quill then Gamora. Groot perks up. Peter gives him a small smile. “Where is Wade?”

“Wade?”

“He… He might go by Deadpool.”

Quill quirks his head. Peter grips the cot’s edge hard, almost to snapping it. Wade has to be here. Wade _has_ to be alive. If anyone can survive…

 _‘That thing is going to destroy the planet’s core!_  
_We have to get everyone off of the planet! We can’t save everyone!_  
_Thanos doesn’t take prisoners. He’ll destroy everything!’_

Quill rubs his chin, brows furrowed in thought. Peter winces from the glimpse of Quill in his head. Stark might have been there. War Machine. The purple guy, too.

“The one who wouldn’t shut up. In the red and black and two swords.” Gamora explains.

“Oh, that guy! Excuse me for not remembering. We weren’t sitting around formally introducing ourselves. What happened to him anyway?”

“He’s with the Reed.”

Peter’s eyes get large. He has gotten used to their way of speaking. The Reed? He hopes it’s Reed Richards and not some super person calling themselves The Reed. He asks them, “Reed’s alive?”

“I am Groot.”

“Johnny? Susie? Ben?”

“Oh yeah! Something Four?”

“I am Groot.”

“Yeah. I don’t remember it either. But anyways, they have him. Deadpool? What a weird name.”

Groot disappears from the door while Quill rambles on about something Peter tunes out. All he gathers is that his best friend is still alive. Reed and Susie, their kids, Ben, they’re all alive. Something about the X-Men putting together ships in record time. Each ship large enough to fit thousands of people. Had it been enough? There’s no way they could have saved everyone. Earth is…

“They had this guy who was moving metal in the air like blam! Blam! And this lady who was putting the ships together like Woah!” Quill makes more sounds like bending of metal and other things, moving his hands in the air. Gamora sits down next to him while Quill demonstrates whom Peter guesses to be some of the X-Men, building some kind of Noah’s Arc for the human race.

“I helped!”

“No, you didn’t, Rocket!”

“I told them how to build something that can get them off of the planet! Terrans only managed to put people on their moon!” Rocket continued to cackle from up above.

“It was cool. And there were these kids who were getting people from all over the place, putting them on the ships like Swish! Swish! And plop! Plop!”

“Terran’s are kind of cool.” Gamora studies her nails.

“Yes we are!”

“But stupid!” Rocket supplies from up above.

Peter picks up some of Drax’s agreement, but Quill is too loud to focus on them.

“I am Groot.” Groot reappears. His hand and arm stretch, holding out what Peter thinks is a tablet. Peter takes it. It’s made out of some plexiglass thing, like Stark tech, and lights up at Peter’s touch. But the icons and words are all foreign.

“Good idea, Groot. We can send communication to them now.” Gamora presses some of the icons. It flickers here and there. Peter watches the screen turn blank. She slides her fingertip up near the edge. Peter supposes it’s the volume. He hears some beeps then a voice first.

‘How does this connect to the vid? Stupid alien tech.’

“Johnny?” Peter’s voice trembles.

‘Hold on. Oh. Ohhh.’ The tablet lights up. The connection isn’t great, Peter supposes, but he can see his best friend. There’s some static but this is absolutely perfect. ‘Peter! Ben, it’s Peter! Get everyone here! Hey, Peter!’

“Hey, Johnny.” Peter does not hide his watering eyes. He can see the glistening in Johnny’s eyes as well.

‘How are the _Guardians_ treating you?’ Johnny doesn’t forget to roll his eyes at the word Guardians. It makes Peter smile.

“Good. I woke up not too while ago.”

‘It’s good to see you, Petey. C’mon guys! Hurry up! We’re all good here, Pete. Here’s everyone!’

Johnny turns his tablet, pausing at each person. Susie waves, looking like she’s about to cry. She goes translucent for a second but shakes herself back. Ben and Reed are there, each saying how glad they are at seeing Peter. The kids make big motions, laughing and talking over each other. Reed hugs the kids to calm them down and begins to talk about sending Peter some physics findings and formulas he’s been working on while traveling in space. Peter wipes at his face and eyes. It’s really good to know that they’re alright. Johnny takes the tablet back before Reed goes deeper into it. He has a goofy smile.

‘Hey, so, we’re apparently going to dock soon. Where are you guys?’

Peter looks up at Quill who shrugs.

“Five more Terran hours!” Rocket shouts. Peter suspects that Rocket has advanced hearing.

“Five hours,” Peter says to Johnny. “Where is this place that we’re docking at?”

“The Nova Empire of Xandar lent us a space station. They weren’t going to take in refugees from a planet targeted by Thanos to settle on their planet.” Gamora explains.

“They just feel guilty because they couldn’t keep the stones safe from Thanos.” Quill grumbles.

Peter focuses back to Johnny who’d been walking through the ship, explaining all of the fancy high-tech stuff. There are some space folks onboard, who are helping with the mechanics and piloting through space. Johnny is apparently good friends with all of them now. They joke and pass on harmless insults.

‘So Petey, I know you’ll want to see Deadpool. He’s still a little weak.’

Was he injured badly? Peter doesn’t get to ask. The video shakes as Johnny opens a door.

‘Hey! Peter’s awake.’

Peter takes a few deep breaths, shutting his eyes through them.

‘Hi Peter.’

He opens his eyes at the familiar voice. It’s Wade. Peter takes in the visual. The Deadpool mask. His suit. Wade is lying on a narrow bed, propped up on some pillows. Peter can’t see his face.

Gamora stands up, squeezing Peter’s shoulder. She pulls Quill and Groot out of the room, pressing a button for the door to slide shut. Gamora might be Peter’s new favorite.

“Hi Wade.” Peter can’t help his voice quivering. He’s freely crying. He doesn’t care.

‘How are you feeling?’

“My head hurts. But I feel better. What about you?”

Wade sighs. It seems like Wade is alone as well. He lifts and pulls his mask away. Peter sobs. Wade’s skin looks worse, dark spots deeper and blood seeping here and there. His eyes are bright and still the same.

‘I’ve been better. Fucking sucks.’

“Yeah. Yeah…”

‘I miss you, Pete.’

“Me, too. More than you know.” Peter gulps back another sob. This Wade, the other Wade, _his_ Wade… in all the worlds… they are being pulled apart by something.

‘I do know.’ Wade lets out a stilted breath.

“You’re not okay.”

‘Seriously. It’s not the worst I’ve endured. They must know what they’re doing, and we volunteered to do this, remember?”

“No. I don’t remember. I can’t remember anything!”

Wade’s mouth parts. Peter stares at him through the static.

“I didn’t mean to yell.”

‘We’re all under stress. Fuck. Earth is gone. It should be much harder to deal than this… It’s just… It happened so fast. And we have to do everything we can—”

The video shakes violently as Wade goes into a coughing fit.

“Wade? Are you sick? Why aren’t you healing?”

It takes a few minutes for Wade to calm down enough to use the tablet again. Peter’s heart is racing with concern.

‘Ugh. It’s taking everything just to _stay_ _alive_ with this. How are you holding up?’

“What? What happened?”

Wade groans, running his free hand over his face. Unzips the front of his suit. The static increases in the vid. On Wade’s chest is a violet glow. Peter stares at the screen. The glow is from a rock, size of a peach pit. It’s _in_ Wade’s chest, surrounded by some metal. It hurts. Peter can feel it, too. It’s all…

_‘We take the stones away, and we contain them for as long as we can._  
_Vision, he protects and contains the Mind Stone when it’s in him. We need to do that for the other stones._  
_It’s temporary. Until the stones can be contained and kept separated. Or destroyed.’_  
_‘How?’_  
_‘Those with accelerated healing. Using this Stark tech that housed the Arc Reactor.’_

“We did this. We volunteered.”

‘Peter.’

Peter pulls the zipper of his own suit down, fingers shaking. He looks down at his bared skin, staring at the blinding red. He hears but doesn’t register Wade shouting his name. Then screams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg! you guys are so awesome!  
> Thank you so much for reading!  
> Leave me comments, etc, as encouragement! (or crit ehehe)
> 
> BTW - All the science in this is made up. Words have been used to make it sound like I know what I'm talking about but I know nothing about science of space and time and whatever else. I haven't been in a scientific environment (freshman prereq) in... 15 years (jfc) so please forgive. Or, idk, feel free to correct me on them. :)
> 
> Also, I have never written anything this long without porn somewhere so it's a new experience for me. I haven't thought about porn yet, either, so it's quite exciting! 
> 
> [Update 04.22.2018]


	7. Part 02 – Earth 4500 – Ch 04

Part 02 – Earth 4500 – Ch 04

 

 _'Does it mean,_ we _have to be separated?'_  
_'Peter, there is no universe or dimension where they can keep me separated from you...'_

 

Peter knows he's blacked out. When he's conscious again, Groot is there, staring down at him in concern. Peter can't wrap his mind around this; _his_ -Earth-mind, or whatever the hell he's supposed to call it, him, Peter Parker, not _This Peter._ This world isn't _his_ world. _This_ isn't his responsibility. He doesn't have to be concerned with _Thanos_ or magic stones or space creatures like Groot or Rocket. But deep down inside, beyond Peter Parker, beneath the Spiderman, he can feel what _This_ _Peter_ has gone through.

"Earth was destroyed, huh." He asks.

"I am Groot."

"I can see it. In the memories. There's nothing there anymore. Just a big rock. And nothing."

"I am Groot."

"Can I tell you a secret, Groot? You won't tell anyone else?"

"...Groot."

"I'm not Peter Parker. I am. But I'm not. I have this... Broken teleporter and a broken dimension watch thing or whatever it is. They make me go to different universes. A different dimension. Just my consciousness. My real body is back there, in my apartment. Does that make any sense?"

"I am Groot."

"So, I'm here, now, living through _This Peter_ 's memories and I'm terrified. What am I supposed to do? I'm just a kid from Queens."

Groot is silent.

"The universe before this, I was a normal kid. A normal kid with a normal family with normal friends. And I had... I had Wade. You know what started this whole thing? I was hurt that Wade told me... He doesn't want me. So, I stole Reed's watch thing and look at the mess I've gotten myself in to. I have a glowing rock embedded in my chest."

Peter looks down, unzipping his suit again. He's apparently tried to claw it out, and the red marks his nails have left on his skin are still visible. There's dried blood caked under his nails.

"I'm not healing as fast. I guess this," he taps the cover of the housing, "is taking everything I have to keep it contained, huh."

"I am Groot."

"I'm dying. Wade's going to die. Does anyone have a plan on how to destroy them?"

"In fact, we do."

Peter looks up. Gamora stands at the threshold of the cabin. Maybe she's heard everything he's said. Peter finds that he doesn't even care.

"We're taking them to the place where they were created. The star system that died out."

"That's what Frodo did."

"Who is this Frodo, and did they succeed?"

"Oh, yeah. Um... He got there, but in the end, he couldn't do it. Got too attached to the power the ring gave him. He lost a finger, but it got destroyed in the end."

Gamora nods seriously. Groot looks interested.

"I mean, I'm sure it's a great plan you guys have. And I, for one, cannot wait to get rid of this."

"There's little time. The system is only a small black hole. The gravitational pull is still strong, but we may not make it in time."

"I hate not knowing the plan. I'm still fuzzy on the details."

"We cannot travel quickly enough in this ship. We'll meet the others and board the fastest ship there is available. Then we go to the system. Send the stones into the black hole."

"I am Groot."

"Yes. I will make sure that nothing gets in the way. And you, Peter Parker, will not lose a finger like this fool called Frodo."

"Hey, he's pretty cool. Once he got past all his faults and... Wait. No. He was possessed and sort of whiny. He had a great friend to help him though. Who carried his weight."

"I will be like this friend..."

"Sam."

"I will be like this friend, Sam."

"I am Groot."

"Thanks, Groot. I know I will be able to count on you."

Groot beams, Peter thinks, his dark eyes shining brighter.

"We're not far from our destination. Rest, Peter Parker."

"Thanks."

 

\--- 

  

The edges around his vision is bleary and a series of metal hammering over metal, the vibration, are all causing his head to throb, like he got punched in the face a thousand times and smashed against the wall by the Hulk. Peter picks up someone calling his name gently, something about landing somewhere. He thinks he hears Johnny’s voice, loud but endearing. Someone calls him ‘kiddo’ and Peter thinks he may have flipped them off. He hopes he has at any rate. His thoughts clear a bit and his mouth feels refreshed. Water. Cool, clean water.

“Not too much, Peter. That’s good.”

Peter smacks his lips together.

“Too loud,” he manages to say.

Later, sounds are subdued. They put big muffs over his ears. Oxygen mask over his face.

“He’s not going to make it at this rate.”

Peter wants to agree. He wants…

“Wade…?”

“Yeah. Yeah, kid. He’ll be here, too.”

Peter pries his eyes open. Through the blurry film seemingly covering his vision, he can see Stark in his Iron Man suit with the helmet off. He sees Reed. He sees Susie and Johnny in the background. He’s not inside the Milano anymore. There’s something over his shoulder. He shifts his sight and finds Groot situated at his side, his hand and the small twigs cocooning his arm protectively. He might have smiled at Groot.

“Peter,” Reed notices him first, coming closer. Johnny comes closer. Peter can smell his cologne. Peter scoffs to himself. Leave it to Johnny Storm to pack his cologne at the end of the world. He likes the familiarity of it though. It reminds him of New York.

“Where?” Peter whispers.

“We’re inside a ship provided by the Nova Corps.” Reed tells him. Destroyed planets. Destroyed cultures. Murdered people. All of it, factually, like reading through a news article, or a science-fiction novel. Even through being destroyed by a crazy visionary, the people have all come together to try to make it right. To prevent it from happening any further. “As long as we are in possession of the stones, Thanos can’t do any more damage.”

Peter can feel the stone throbbing in his chest at the mention of Thanos. It, too, must feel the damages it’s helped to cause. Like it’s got emotions and regrets and shit.

“Here’s Steve.”

Captain America is wheeled in through the door, on a frigging wheelchair. Other than that, he looks like Captain America. But there’s pain in his eyes, Peter can see. Steve doesn’t come much closer, doesn’t reach out to touch him in any way. Peter’s memories contain pieces of Captain America with his hand over Spiderman’s shoulder, patting him over the back and his head, his booming voice telling him to be careful. And then… the other Avengers. Dead. Dead bodies.

“I can’t do this.” Peter mumbles out.

The others remain quiet. Tony Stark says something about being needed on deck. Reed follows, leading Susie and Johnny out. Groot stays, silently watching over Peter.

“I can’t, I’m too weak,” Peter says again.

“There’s no other choice.” Steve groans.

“There’s nothing left to fight for.”

Rather than trying to convince him, Steve stares at the wall beyond Peter’s bed. And after a long minute, he says, “I feel the same way.”

“Why do you…?” Peter gets cut off by a violent cough. His body feels like it’s trying to turn inside out. Groot hovers a cup of water over his lips, trickling drops down when his coughing fit stops.

“I made a promise.”

Peter waits.

“I made a promise to the people I care about. That no one else in the galaxy will have to go through this again. Not like this. Not if I can help it.”

“That’s noble of you,” Peter says through gritted teeth.

“Natasha. Clint. T’Challa.” Steve says. “Bucky…”

Peter puts the names together with the faces in his head. And so many more. Nameless faces they couldn’t save.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m sorry. This stupid plan… All I’m saying is that it better work,” Steve says. His mouth curls up for a short second. “Tony and his ideas.”

“Reed is worse.” Peter says.

“I can just feel the optimism oozing out from all of you.” Peter startles at the new voice. New. Familiar. Loved. “Don’t you agree?”

“Yes, Deadpool. I must agree,” Vision deadpans, pushing Wade’s chair through the threshold. He situates Wade next to Steve, sitting down on an empty chair.

Peter stares at Wade, looking worse than he’d been on the little video feed.

“We’re all aboard and ready. The ship will be taking off now.” Vision supplies for them.

“Good. The faster we get this out, the faster I can make out with my boyfriend,” Wade says. It makes Peter and Steve laugh.

“I am Groot.”

“I know, buddy,” Wade says. “What I meant by ‘make out’ is not what I meant at all.”

Groot tilts his head in confusion. Peter feels the gravity shift as their transport leaves the station. Peter would have loved to explore it. Perhaps they’ll return here after.

“Would it be inadvisable to hold hands?” Peter whispers.

“It won’t be the end of the world,” Vision tells him.

Peter reaches out for Wade. Wade takes his hand in his, trembling uncontrollably.

“I feel so old.” Wade groans.

“I know what you mean,” Steve jokes.

“Hah,” Wade starts but doesn’t finish. Peter squeezes back just as tightly.

_‘If it means I die with you, then that’s what I choose.’  
‘Baby Boy, it would be an honor.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all!  
> It's been ... months! I've been busy with work and all, AND participating in the Spideypool Prompt Bang, in which I wrote a story. :) Check it out! And also check out all the other superduper awesome fics and fanarts for the Bang. I'm slowly reading through each of the fics. :D
> 
> Thank you always, for all the kudos, the comments, and the subscriptions! Really, you guys are awesome and keep me going with this fic!  
> (And any mistakes and inconsistencies are all on me. feel free to point stuff out! I rarely get offended by criticisms. Ehhehe.]
> 
> [Updated July 21, 2018]


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